


Traumatized

by dragonwriter24cmf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brother Feels, Brotherly Bonding, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, PTSD Castiel, Season 11 au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:35:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22791094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonwriter24cmf/pseuds/dragonwriter24cmf
Summary: The Winchesters are worried about the way Castiel has locked himself away, binge-watching TV. Can they get to the heart of what's bothering their angelic brother?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	Traumatized

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters belong to the creators of Supernatural

**Traumatized**

“He's doing it again.”

Sam looked up as his brother flopped into a seat and shoved a beer across the table. “By 'he' I'm going to assume you mean Cas, unless it's Crowley. And by 'it', you mean…?”

“Binge watching. He discovered crime shows. NCIS, CSI, Criminal Minds, Law and Order. You name it, if it's on Netflix, he's got it queued up to watch. He's on Season 4 of NCIS right now.” Dean took a long swallow of his beer. “I thought we got over this when he went after Metatron. And then he told me he was keeping tabs on the news, because that might give us hints, and because that's how he found Metatron, only now he's back to the almost non-stop program watching.”

Sam nodded. “Well, he always has been frustrated by his lack of contextual understanding and idiom comprehension. And we did encourage him to try and integrate better.” He eyed his brother, then marked his place in his book, shut it, and opened his own bottle. “But...you don't think that's what this is, do you?”

“No. I don't. I just don't know what's going on with him.” Dean scowled, frustration written on his face.

Sam sipped his beer. “Try talking to him about it?”

“Yeah. But he's not interested in sharing. It's like there's this wall.” Dean grimaced. “Besides, I'm not good with all the feelings and the talking and crap. That's more your thing.”

Sam pulled a wry smile. “You want me to go talk to him.”

“Couldn't hurt. You're the emotional self-help hippie type.” Dean took another long pull of beer. “Worst he can do is shut you down.” He looked at his brother. “Come on Sam, you know this isn't like Cas. This whole...retreat thing.”

“Yeah. I know. I've been wondering if I ought to talk to him. I just didn't want to push. And I thought he'd gotten a handle on it after Metatron, same as you did.” He thought a moment, then knocked back the rest of his beer. “No time like now, I guess.” He disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared with two fresh bottles. “I'll let you know if he says anything.”

“Yeah.” Dean waved at him, then went back to the project he'd been working on.

*****T*****

Sam tapped lightly on the door, waited for Cas's acknowledgment, then edged his way inside and shut the door behind him, looking the angel over as he did so.

Cas was only wearing his white shirt and trousers, and he looked…worn. Shabby, almost. The way Sam or Dean would look if they'd pulled a couple of all nighters without showers, or after a long hard hunt. For a man who hadn't been out of the Bunker in days, it was worrisome. Even more so with Cas. Cas could neaten himself up with a thought, and the fact that he hadn't bothered raised alarm bells in Sam's mind.

“Sam.” Cas glanced up at him.

“Hey Cas. Brought you a beer.” He held out a bottle to the angel. Cas took it, twisted the top off. Sam looked at the screen, where a grey-haired man was barking orders at a bunch of younger people. “Anything good?”

Cas nodded. “This show is actually quite entertaining. The main character, his name is Gibbs. He's the older one.” Cas gestured. “He actually reminds me of Bobby. Except he's older, and he builds boats instead of working on a car. And other things. Also, there's a girl on here, who works in a lab, and she...she's very energetic. She reminds me of Charlie.” Cas tilted his face to look at Sam, sorrow settling over the enthusiasm of moments before. “I miss them.”

Sam swallowed hard around a lump in his throat, and a block of ice in his gut. “Yeah. We all do.” He took a swallow of beer.

He watched to the end of the episode with Cas, waited until the credits were rolling. “So, Cas, I was actually...I was hoping we could talk about some things. If that's okay with you.”

Castiel tensed, but he hit 'stop' on the remote. “I've been watching the news. I haven't seen anything that looks related to the Darkness. Or Rowena, or Crowley. Or...”

“I know. Dean told me.” Sam cut him off. “Actually, I was hoping we could talk about you.”

Cas seemed to freeze. After a moment, he collected himself. “I don't understand.”

Sam swallowed another mouthful of beer. “Honestly, I was just hoping you'd tell us what's wrong.”

Cas frowned. “Nothing's wrong. My wounds are healed, my Grace is restored and charged, as much as it can be. Rowena's spell is gone.”

“But something is still wrong. Something...I don't know. But I do know you aren't okay. So does Dean.” Sam held up a hand to stop Cas as the angel opened his mouth. “Look, before you try to tell me that you're fine, or there's nothing to worry about…Cas, I know that's not true.” He gestured to the angel. “You look like you're barely keeping yourself together. And this...staying in the Bunker, binge watching TV…Cas, this isn't like you. The last time you sat still for more than a day, you were dying. And even then you hated it. The last time you hid out like this, you were messed up from taking on my Cage scars. Dean and I...we're worried about you.”

Cas looked away from him, hands clenching and flexing. “I just...I'm not sure I've fully recovered from Rowena's spell.”

“Do we need to do something for you? Did she not remove it?”

Cas shook his head. “I...I feel certain Rowena removed the entirety of the spell. But I...I don't think you can help me.”

Sam sat on the corner of the desk, facing the angel. “Tell me what's going on.” Cas looked at him, despair and reticence written in his eyes. Sam held up his hand. “Look, you thought we couldn't help you with Rowena's spell either. And maybe you're right. But we won't know unless you're willing to tell me, tell Dean and I, what's going on. We can't help you with things we don't know about. At least if you talk to us, we might have a chance.”

Cas looked away from him. Sam stayed where he was, watching the angel. He didn't know if Cas would confide in him or not, but the fact the angel hadn't turned on the TV again or thrown him out was a good sign, as far as he was concerned.

Finally Cas sighed, and some of the tension seemed to leave his shoulders. “I didn't want to bother you or Dean.”

“It's not a bother. Seriously Cas, it's worse when we don't know what's wrong.” Sam shifted to get a little more comfortable. “I'm gonna guess that the binge watching...it's a distraction, right? Keep your mind off of something?”

Cas actually flinched at that, shoulders hunching. “Yes.” The admission was soft. He remained silent for a several moments, then spoke again, his voice barely more than a whisper. “If I'm not distracted, if I try to leave the Bunker...I see it all again. Over and over, like a rerun that never stops. And I...I can't...” The words stuttered to a broken stop as Cas flinched again, mouth pinching into a line.

Sam took another sip of beer. “You see...what? What is it, Cas?”

Cas's hands clenched, twisting into the pillow at his side. “What I did to Dean, under Rowena's spell. What I almost did to that girl. What I did to Ephram, Jonas, Crowley. What Ephram and Jonas did to me. What they did to Hannah. What Dean did...” He shuddered, hands clenching again as his head bowed. “I keep seeing it. I thought that would end with Rowena's spell, but…”

He choked, chest heaving for a moment before he regained some of his composure. “When Dean first suggested I leave the Bunker...I tried. But when I reached for the door, the memories...” He broke off again. Sam didn't have to see his face to see the shame, the anguish that engulfed the angel. “When I watch TV, I can...I don't have to think about it.”

“Does it happen at other times?” Sam felt his chest tightening.

“Sometimes.” Cas's embarrassment was evident in his response. “I...Metratron said I was broken. I hit him for that. Several times. But he's right. I am. I can feel it. And now...I remember the way I beat him, interrogated him...” Cas turned away to look at the wall, his expression equal parts anger, misery and shame. “It was exactly like what Ephram did to me. I took someone I knew couldn't defend himself, someone weaker than me, helpless, and I hurt him until he broke. I hate him, but remembering what I did to him…” His eyes came up, raw pain in them. “Sam...I don't know what's happening to me. What I've become, what I'm becoming...”

Sam nodded. His throat hurt too much to speak.

He'd researched things, psychological issues, after Cas had saved him from the Cage memories. He'd been looking for ways to help Cas, and he'd looked up everything he could on psychological disorders in-between hunts. He'd done more research during the year he lived with Amelia, trying to get a handle on his nightmares, the things that haunted him, his knee-jerk reactions that sometimes startled people around him.

There was one condition that had stuck with him. PTSD. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He suspected himself of having it, knew both he and Dean had suffered from it after their respective stints in Hell. He was pretty sure Dean still had it as well, and coped by hunting and drinking and working on his car. Hell, he'd had the condition for years, if Sam understood the symptoms properly, ever since his first stint nearly dying, and those had always been his coping mechanisms. Just like picking up chicks, or driving aimlessly sometimes.

Not that Sam thought he was much better. He knew he had flashbacks and nightmares. He knew there were nights he stayed up researching, nights he drank, to avoid facing the demons in his head. He was better off than Dean, not having had to deal with the Mark of Cain, but he wasn't entirely whole.

He'd never thought of Cas having it. He'd always thought the angel was somehow too tough for stuff like that. That without the Hell-scar induced madness, Cas was just capable of handling...well, everything. Granted, the angel had a massive guilt complex, easily as bad as his own and Dean's, but for some reason Sam had never thought about other issues an angel might have.

He felt ashamed of that now. Cas had been through so much for them, for the Winchesters, and it had never occurred to him that there might be fallout for the angel. Even though it should have.

Hadn't Cas told him before, in his madness, that the torment of his guilt and grief and loneliness and pain had nearly destroyed him? And the angel had suffered a great deal more since then. Hell, the things the angel had endured in the last two months alone were nearly unendurable.

They should have realized that even an angel could be broken. And even someone as strong as Cas would have a breaking point.

They should have seen it.

He stood slowly, moved to sit next to the angel on the bed. Cas hunched away from him, the lines of his body screaming his anguish, his humiliation and his fear. Sam hesitated a moment, then reached out a tentative hand to lay on Cas's shoulder. “Cas.”

Cas flinched, and Sam tightened his grip. “Listen. I'm not going to tell you that nothing's wrong. I'm not going to tell you that everything's fine. I'm not even going to tell you that you aren't broken. Because, honestly, maybe you are. Maybe we all are.” He swallowed hard. “Dean's still dealing with fallout from the Mark of Cain, and now this thing with the Darkness, whatever it is. I'm dealing with the fact that I let the Darkness loose. And I didn't want to tell Dean, or you, probably for the same reasons you didn't tell us about this, but...”

He paused, used his tongue to moisten lips gone dry. “I prayed to God. And since then...I've been having visions. Of a lot of things, but mostly of the Cage. I don't know what they mean, but...I keep seeing them. I've been trying to figure them out.” He felt Cas tense up. “The point I'm trying to make is...you don't have to hide. You don't have to try and suffer through this alone. Dean and I...we can help you. And you can help us. Hunt with us, help us go through the Lore. Things like that. Or, just sit with us and watch stuff in the library.”

Cas shivered under his hand, then stilled. The tension in his voice cut like a knife. “Sam...when I...when I confronted Metatron, when I attacked him, there was a part of me...that enjoyed that. Enjoyed having him at my mercy. That liked being able to overpower him. And I...when I killed Ephram and Jonas, I felt that. I thought it was the spell, but if it wasn't, if I'm becoming a person like that, a person who enjoys hurting others…”

“I don't think you were. Are. Those were people who hurt you. Hurt you badly. It's not really a surprise that you'd react the way you did. And Ephram and Jonas...you said they tortured you and killed someone close to you. That's not an unreasonable response in those circumstances.” Sam managed another swallow of his beer. “And Metatron...well, you were a lot more restrained than Dean and I would have been.”

“It still doesn't feel right.”

Sam nodded. “I know. And that's a good thing. Cas...” He tugged gently on the angel's shoulder, until he'd coaxed Cas into looking up at him. “Cas, the fact that it haunts you, the fact that you're worried about it, that's proof that you aren't becoming like them.”

Cas stared at him a long moment, then looked away. “Maybe. But still...there's something wrong, something...broken, inside me. And I don't know what to do about it. I don't know how to fix it. I only know that it hurts, that when the memories come, I can't break free.” He shook his head sharply, as if trying to throw off said memories. “I...the last time I felt this, it was when I was remembering what Naomi did to me. And that was...horrible.” He shuddered.

“I know. I wish we'd been there for you more than we were.” Sam squeezed the angel's shoulder. “But if you're willing to talk to us, talk to me and Dean, we'll do our best to help you through this.”

Cas swallowed hard. “But you have so much to deal with already. The Darkness, your own problems...I don't feel I should burden you...”

“It isn't a burden. At least, having you talk to us is less of a burden than worrying about you. Besides, you've taken one problem off the table already. You recovered the Demon Tablet from Metatron. And you got us more info on the Darkness. Those are good things Cas.” he squeezed the angel's shoulder again, and was rewarded with a slight relaxation. “You are helping us, so let us return the favor.”

Cas shifted. “You already cared for me and saved me from Rowena's spell...”

Sam cut him off. “Cas...caring for people isn't exactly a trade, no matter what the expression sounds like. Dean and I...we aren't keeping count here.”

Cas sagged. “Still...”

Sam studied Cas's profile. Some of the misery had gone out of his expression, and some of the tension from his frame, but it was obvious the angel was still hurting.

He recalled what Cas had said about the flashbacks that were tormenting him. There wasn't much they could do about his grief for Hannah, what had happened with Crowley or the other angels. But the things that had happened between Cas and Dean...those could be resolved, or at least soothed.

He considered his next words, then spoke, slow and careful. “Cas...Dean said he tried to talk to you.” Cas tensed up again. Sam kept going. “Look, I don't know everything that happened, but...I think you should talk to Dean. I think both of you would benefit from it. I mean, it's obvious you're both blaming yourselves for things that happened. And you're both hurting. You need to talk it out, yell at each other if you have to. You can't fix things if you just leave them to fester.”

Cas's hands clenched, then he turned away. “I know. But I...I can't...I don't know how...”

That, Sam could sympathize with. He considered a moment. “Will you let me tell Dean what you just told me?” Cas shot a sharp glance at him, then nodded.

“Okay.” Sam patted Cas on the back twice, then stood. “I'm going to go talk to Dean, right now. And then one of us will come back and talk to you, okay? Would you be willing to stay here and wait for one of us to come back here?” He considered asking the angel to join them in the library, but Cas was hiding in his room for a reason. And as hideously uncomfortable as this all was for the angel, he didn't want to make it worse.

Cas nodded again, then turned his face away, fear showing itself in the hunch of his shoulders and the line of his jaw. Sam watched him a moment, then left the room.

*****T*****

Dean was still at the computer when Sam emerged from the sleeping area. The older Winchester looked up as Sam came up the stairs. “Anything?”

Sam grimaced. “Yeah. A lot, actually.” He went and retrieved fresh beers for himself and his brother, then fell into a chair. “Apparently, Cas is binge watching as a distraction.”

Dean's grimace mirrored his brother's. “From what?”

“He keeps having flashbacks every time he tries to leave or doesn't have something to occupy his mind. Based on what he said, I'm guessing they're primarily of the past two months, though he did mention that they reminded him of when Naomi had him captured.” Sam snapped the top off his beer with a scowl. “Said something about what happened with those two angels that tortured him, a few other things.” He sipped his drink. “Part of it's what happened with the spell, when he went all crazy on you. Major guilt issues there.” He swallowed again. “And he said you did something to him.”

Dean's jaw clenched. Sam watched his brother's expression. “Dean?” He waited a moment, then asked softly “This have something to do with why you wouldn't let him heal you after he pummeled you under the attack dog spell?”

Dean took a long drag on his beer. Then he slammed it down and stood, moving restlessly. When he answered, the sharpness in his voice cut like knives. “Cas tried to stop me. After I killed the Stynes, he caught up with me, tried to keep me here. Said he wouldn't let me go if there was a chance I could be saved. Said he wouldn't stand by and watch me murder the world. Said he didn't want to hurt me. And maybe it was the Mark, or maybe it wasn't, but I sure as hell didn't feel the same way. And I hurt him Sam. I hurt him bad. I nearly used his own angel blade on him.”

Sam kept quiet. He wasn't sure he could talk around the lump in his throat anyway. He'd known something bad had happened, when he'd found Cas cleaning himself and the library up in the wake of Dean's exit. But Cas had never divulged the details, aside from the fact that he'd been unable to stop Dean from leaving, and that they had fought.

Dean turned back to face him, and there was grief in his eyes. “Sammy, he didn't even fight back. Tried to restrain me, like he did when I was a demon, but he didn't fight back. I did damage on him that would have killed a human.”

“And that's why you didn't want him to heal you, after he attacked you.” Sam could see how Dean had come to that conclusion. “You felt like you owed him one.”

“Yeah.” Dean scrubbed his hand over his face.

“But Cas doesn't see it that way.” Sam sighed. “I get it Dean, I do. But...you need to hash this out with Cas. You feel guilty, he feels guilty, both of you are tearing yourselves apart, and with everything else as well...” He sighed again. “We can't fix...a lot of stuff. Like what Cas went through when the other angels got him. But we can fix this, this tension between you. You can fix this. So go do it.”

Dean grimaced. “Not my area of expertise, Sam.”

“It's not his either. But we promised we'd help him, be there for him. If this is what it takes, then this is what it takes.” Sam stared at his brother.

After a moment, Dean looked away. “Yeah.” He drained the last bit of his first beer, then picked up his second. “Do me a favor, don't come check on us for a while.”

“Sure. If that's what you need. I'll give you guys two hours.” Sam sat forward and flipped open the book he'd been reading. “Go.” Then he turned his attention to the page in front of him, ignoring the sounds of his brother moving across the room towards the living quarters.

*****T*****

Dean made his way down the stairs, slowing as he reached Cas's door. A part of him was tempted to go to his own room, hide in his music. Make something up when Sam came to check on him. But he knew his brother wouldn't be fooled. Besides, Sam was right. They'd promised to take care of each other, and Cas. And if Cas was suffering the way Sam said he was, it was only right to try and ease that as much as possible. 

He knocked on the door. “Cas?” No answer, but he couldn't hear the TV and the angel hadn't told him to go away, so he took that as permission. He nudged the door open and slipped inside. 

Cas was sitting on the bed, hands clasped loosely around the beer Sam must have brought him, eyes staring vacantly at the wall. His expression was agonized, immediately bringing to mind what Sam had said about flashbacks.

Dean set his beer down, then moved to the angel's side. “Cas?” He touched the angel's shoulder.

Cas startled, almost dropping the beer as his gaze whipped up and sideways. “Dean.”

“Yeah. Here, careful with that.” He took the bottle from the angel and set it on the bedside table. He settled himself in the chair across from the angel. “Let me guess. Flashback?”

“I...yes. Sam asked me to wait and I...” Cas looked away, but not before Dean saw shame. 

“No distractions equals remembering. Sam mentioned that.” Cas nodded. Dean leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Was it me?” 

Cas shook his head. “No. It was Ephram. I presume that's why your voice...you weren't there, so...”

“So it broke the memory. That's good.” Dean swallowed, licked his lips to moisten them. “But Sam said some of those flashbacks are of me.”

Cas's shoulders hunched. “I...yes.” He looked up. “Dean, I know I said it before but...there aren't...I don't know how to convey how sorry I am for what I did to you. Even with Rowena's spell, to beat you so savagely…”

“It's okay. I know you didn't want to.” Dean reached across the space between them and locked his hand around Cas's hand. “Look at me Cas.” Cas complied slowly. “I saw what that spell was doing to you, how it was tearing you apart. I knew when I went into that warehouse that you were outta your mind. And I'd already decided...better me than someone else. Some poor innocent kid. I know you don't like it, but I'm a tough bastard, Cas. I can take a little knocking around. You didn't do any permanent damage, okay?”

“But I...” Cas shuddered. “If it hadn't been for Rowena, if she hadn't broken the curse...I could have done something irreparable.” His voice cracked on the last word.

“Could have. I don't think you would have though.” Dean's voice was quiet, but filled with conviction. 

“You can't know that.” Cas's voice roughened with anguish.

“Yeah. I can. Because I know you. Besides...you're an angel, full on mojo and all that crap right?” Cas nodded. “And I don't have the Mark of Cain anymore, so I'm not all juiced up.” Cas nodded again. “Cas, I need you to think about something. If you were so out of control back then...how come I walked out of that warehouse with just bruises? Cause I didn't take any damage that a bag of ice and some beer and pain-killers couldn't fix.”

Cas looked up at him. Dean held his gaze. “You know what I think? I think that even with Rowena's spell tearing up your mind, you held back. Hit me, sure. And did it hurt, yeah. But you could have broken every bone in my body, easy, before Sam and the witch bitch got there.” Cas blinked. Dean kept talking. “You might not have been steering the ship, buddy, but something inside you held back. Just like with that girl. You didn't kill her, even though you could have before I stopped you, and you let her go when I asked you.”

Cas swallowed hard. “But I...I swore, after what Naomi forced me to do to you...I swore I wouldn't...” His voice cracked again. “Even if what you say is true, what if it happens again? What if...what if I can't hold back next time?”

“I don't think that's gonna happen. I think that you're too tough for that.”

Cas jerked away, jerked into a standing position, facing the wall. “But I'm not strong. I'm not tough. I'm...broken. And I can't fix it. I don't even know what I'm supposed to fix. I keep seeing...” His hands clenched, pressed against his temples in a rare show of vulnerability. “Dean, I...”

“It's fine Cas.” Dean rose from his seat, put a hand on the angel's shoulder. “Sam and me, we got our own shit to work through. And if helping put you back together needs to go on the to-do list...well, consider it done. Top priority even.”

“The Darkness...”

“The Darkness can go screw herself for a bit. We don't know how to handle it anyway, so there's nothing wrong with fixing some shit for ourselves while we sort it out.” Dean tightened his grip on Cas's shoulder. “Besides, don't think I don't know that I did this to you. And I fully intend to clean up my own messes.”

Cas turned to look at him. “Dean, you didn't...”

“Bull.” Dean met the angel's eyes. “Sam told me. You told him part of your flashbacks were what I did to you, when you tried to stop me from yielding to the Mark of Cain.”

Cas flinched. “Dean...I know that wasn't you...”

“No, you don't. Because you said it in the library. The Mark was changing me. But it was still me. Still someone you were trying to save.” He remembered Cas's hand on his shoulder, covering the hand-print scar of where he'd pulled the hunter from Hell. “You told me you didn't want to watch me murder the world, and you didn't want to hurt me.”

Cas flinched again. “Dean...”

“I hurt you Cas. I hurt you bad. Probably at least as bad as your brothers did when they caught you, before you came to us.”

Cas shivered. “There is a difference. What you did was violence, what they did...”

“Was torture. I know. That doesn't change the fact that I broke your arm, dislocated your wrist, broke your jaw, broke your nose. That table-top...if you were human, that would have caved your skull, fractured it at least. And I broke at least four ribs.”

“Three. And two fractures.” Cas's shoulders hunched. “Dean, I know what you did. But it was the influence of the Mark. I know that. I know...you would never do that to me otherwise.”

“It doesn't matter. I did it. And I threatened to kill you with your own blade.” That was the part that shamed him the most, the way he had ripped the blade from Cas's sleeve, held it over the angel before slamming it into the book and leaving the angel lying on the floor. His throat tightened, hand falling from Cas's shoulder and curling into a fist.

The words that broke from him were harsh with pain and shame. “You had to beg me to stop. That should never have happened, Mark or not.”

Cas winced. Then he shook his head. “You can't blame yourself for that.”

“Yeah. I can. Because I never apologized for it. And I sure as hell didn't do anything to earn your forgiveness. How you even trusted us enough to come here...” He hadn't said the words aloud, hadn't even really thought them, but when they escaped, he knew they were true.

“That's not true. You...you stopped.” Cas's expression tightened, anguish twisting over his face. “You spoke of Ephram and Jonas...when they took me, when they...” His voice cracked, shoulders shaking. “When they tortured me, I begged them for mercy. I begged them for death, if they despised me so much. And they...they mocked me. They enjoyed my pain. They enjoyed hearing me scream, watching me...watching me struggle. It...amused them, when the curse tore through me from the inside, while their blades did the same to my flesh.” The angel was trembling, the torment of the memories written over his face. 

Cas stopped, pulled himself together. His voice when he continued was ragged, hoarse. “What you did, when you yielded to the Mark…it was violent. It was cruel, and it was agonizing, but it was nothing compared to what they did. You didn't...you hurt me, but you took no enjoyment from it. Even then I could see that. You spared me, and when I...when I begged you, you stopped. You didn't hurt me further. You did no more than incapacitate me.”

“I threatened you.”

“Did you?” Cas looked at him. “You warned me to stay away. Were you threatening me, or warning me that the Mark might drive you to do worse in the future? Was that a threat, or a warning?”

Dean considered, remembering his words. “It was both. But God help me Cas...I should never have done that to you. And I am more sorry that you will ever know.”

Cas shook his head. “I believe I understand quite well. After Rowena's spell...”

“Call it square then.” Dean put a hand on the angel's shoulder again, feeling how Cas was still trembling. “And if you need time to recover from all the shit you've been through, it's fine. If you need to scream, punch something, take something apart, watch TV, it's good. Hell, even if you wanna go off and be a crazy bee-keeper again.”

Cas shook his head. “I...the TV, it helps. It distracts me. But truly...I just want to help you and Sam. I just want to stop the Darkness, put things right. Keep Heaven and Earth safe. Protect the other angels, even if they do hate me.” He slumped. “I just...the way I feel, this anger and this pain and these memories...I don't know how to do that. I don't know what to do, when I can't even get to the front door of the Bunker without being overwhelmed.”

“I don't know either, but we'll figure it out together. In the meantime...” He looked at the angel, worn and weary, with dark circles under his eyes and his shirt untucked and rumpled. Then he looked at the TV, frozen on the Netflix logo.

It only took a moment to make a decision. He pushed on Cas's shoulder, nudging the angel backwards onto the bed. Cas looked at him in surprise. He scooped up the angel's beer, deposited it firmly in Cas's grip. “Stay here and relax a while, okay? I'll be back.” Cas nodded. Dean snagged the rest of his beer and ducked out the door.

*****T*****

Sam was still working in the library when he emerged. Dean strode over to his brother, caught the edge of the book and flipped it, nearly slamming it on his brother's fingers. Sam jerked back. “Dean, what the hell...”

“We're taking the rest of the day off.” Dean shoved his laptop closed to make the point clear. “Come help me get crap from the kitchen.”

Sam followed him. “Dean...”

“I talked to Cas.” Dean pulled out hamburger meat, and a frozen pie. “Put this in the oven, Sammy.”

“The oven has to pre-heat.” Sam turned on the appliance. “Dean, what's this about?”

Dean pulled the hamburger apart and squashed it ruthlessly into patties. “They didn't just torture him. The other angels.” He flicked the gas burner on. “What they did to him...he thinks the way I trashed him is okay just because I stopped when he asked.” he slammed a skillet to the stove top to cook on.

He could tell Sam understood him when his brother stiffened. Then his brother sighed. “Explains why he's afraid he's becoming like them...” Dean glanced at his younger brother, and Sam shook his head. “He said remembering how he killed them, how he assaulted you and Metatron, he thought he might be turning into a person like them. Something about being angry, how it felt to have someone powerless, how it felt to break them.”

“We didn't get into that.” Though it made Cas's easy forgiveness, and his turmoil over Dean's injuries so much more understandable. “He's nothing like those bastards.”

“You know it and I know it. We're just going to have to convince him.” Sam blinked at the oven, then pulled the pie out of it's container. “Move over, and I'll put this in.” He slid the pie into the oven and set the timer. 

“We'll figure it out.” Dean slapped the hamburgers into the pan. “We have to figure it out Sammy. We can't let Cas keep going like this.”

“Trust me Dean, I'm with you all the way on this one.” Sam watched his brother prod the hamburger patties with a spatula. “Just...what's with the cooking spree and the sudden break?”

“Cas needs to know he's important.” Dean prodded a patty, then flipped it. “It isn't much, but since we've got jack shit on the Darkness anyway, it can't hurt to take some down time, watch some crap TV and just...hang out.”

“Fair enough.” Sam nodded and went to pull down plates, and an extra six pack from the fridge. Then he dragged out hamburger buns, lettuce, cheese and a tomato.

Twenty minutes later, the hamburgers were ready. Dean checked the pie and declared it satisfactory. They loaded everything they needed onto a couple of trays, Sam dangling the six pack off of two fingers, and made their way to Cas's room. 

Cas answered them this time, then blinked in surprise as Dean nudged the door open with a foot. “Dean...”

“We decided to take a break.” Sam flashed the angel a smile. “So...we made burgers, and I brought more beer, and Dean made a pie, and we're all set.” He dropped his load on Cas's desk, next to Dean's. “Still in molecule land, or have you figured out taste buds again?”

“Mostly molecule land. But I can taste beer, and maybe the pie...” Cas blinked again. “Really sweet things do register...”

“It's apple, with whipped cream. Doesn't get much sweeter.” Dean fixed his plate, then flopped next to Cas. “So...you were watching NCIS?”

“I...was, yes.” Cas frowned.

“Okay.” Dean scooped up the remote and turned the TV on. Netflix came on, and with it a question. “Still watching...yes we are.” He clicked. A new episode came up. “So...what's this about? I mean, aside from the Navy and your standard crime drama.”

“Well, it follows this team...” Cas indicated the characters appearing on the screen, with credits. “That gray-haired man, that's the main character, Gibbs and those are his subordinates, though I think they're more friends now...” Cas took the remote and paused the show as each new face came up, giving their names and a brief back-story on them. “And they solve crimes. It's actually similar to the way you and Sam hunt, asking questions, doing research, interviewing witnesses...”

“Sounds great.” Dean settled back. Sam flopped into the chair, long legs stretched out. “Go for it.”

Cas hit play, and the three of them got comfortable.

It wasn't much, and it wouldn't do much to heal what they were all going through. It wouldn't solve most of the problems facing them. But they weren't alone, and that was enough to start with.

**Author's Note:**

> Because sometimes, I just want the boys to realize that Cas needs care too.


End file.
